Fig

Even beneath the warm weight of a double coat – thick roots blanketing much of her frame, swinging by knees and dragging through snow; long black fur, matted wherever fine twigs or thistles could gather, she could feel the bitter cold of the tundra. It was not like anything she had encountered before. Every breath burned her trachea, her billowing lungs, and she coughed harshly and painfully. Flakes of snow gathered in her thick black lashes making it virtually impossible to find the direction home - the swollen, bleak clouds above now spewed forth a curtain of obscure white. The weather had turned so quickly, even the chilly blue tomb she had been so desperate to escape had vanished. Fig found small relief beneath the wind-harried canopy of her Body Plant, but as it writhed above, her heavy, sodden legs staggered and stumbled through the piling snow to bear its shifting weight.

The lost Lignea wondered as she wandered helplessly this way and that, whether this weather had been the actual cause of the couple’s untimely death; surely there were predators well made for this cruel landscape that could have inflicted such wounds... but she thought too of the white down feather she had stashed securely on her body, and remembered that a murderer was indeed running rampant through Helovia.

Hours, perhaps even days passed her by, and finally the blizzard eased. Fig had no clue whatsoever where she was standing and glanced with red, glassy eyes across the changed region. The wiry grass which she had travelled between was lost beneath a heavy carpet, and though the high sun peeked golden light between the stubborn pasty streamers above, it offered little aid – she would need to wait still longer for it to sink west. She was grateful at least that it was not the dark hour of night surrounding. Oh great Corocottas she prayed sombrely, good lord Nepenthes. I have lost my way, my bearings. Please light me a path home before some foul befalls me. The leaves rattling overhead as the lingering wind gushed by, were bruised and burned, and Fig felt terribly their pain. Her supple nose was creased with disheartenment, though she knew it would do her no good to dwell and revel in the pity of the situation.

As the serpent twisted upon frosts decay cast forth hoof by aching hoof upon the wastes of gathering storm. A mane long, trailed like comet fire and her eyes burned forth with fire and life hotter than a thousand suns as her lips drew to a snarl, the singularity of the storm held forth a denizen to the unicorn of eternal flames and as she fluttered ever forward upon the cascading abyss of ebony and alabaster’s sheen she trudged forth like the lone sentinel, a final survivor of some fantastical war. Yet here she was, standing upon the hallowed blankets that whispered so bitterly to her soul as phantom whisps of a her ghost like mane flowed and tossed their limp stands upon her gaunt, slender face. Causing her expression to further harden and her teeth to clamp forth into a grit. She was an orb of light, a whisp mother upon the frey, blending so deeply into the canvas of ethereal desire and frosts vengeance. Her long lashes fluttering as they worked so tirelessly to shift the snow from penetrating her focused gaze, her pupils contracting to thin dashes upon the sheen of glittering turmoil. Never had something so deathly be painted forth in such beauty.


Yet so with a sudden roar the fae stuck out as ice shifted beneath ebony hoof and she flew, tossed beneath the striking of snow as she fell battered and smashed upon frost in her ungraceful descent, for an event that seemed to have happened so quickly, as the siren gathered her bearings a no more than a few feet away from the slight hellish forging of cold that stood forth in pride in the form of a large hill. She realized she had fallen from the top, unaware of her perching’s. Her body cried out to her in protest as she struck out her feet, ascending with new found elegance after such a brutish incident, yet she ignored its pleads and pushed ever further forward upon the swirling motions of the cold that seemed to almost spin her head with its nauseating motions. Night was nearing and the cream streaked clouds glinted forth upon moonlights banner. She knew upon this moment that she would have to find rest, perhaps a place to refuge until the bitter howls of the realm had silenced and so sleep took its thrall and she welcomed it. Perhaps she would stay here for a little while upon her bed of moonlight.


She stayed upon this post for a day or so, shrouded from the winds until the blizzards cry faded to no more than a faint memory of what it had been and she of course staggered forth. Forth into the expanse of light and cold. Forth into the loneliness that gripped her so as she wished only for a companion to converse with. The whole idea of exploration had become so much more a daunting task to her now.


She must have had walked for hours. She did not count, she did not think to. Her mind was a clockwork mechanism ticking ever sullenly without comprehension nor analysis of her action and so she echoed such lifeless demeanor until she saw the form of another. Picking up her mere ramble of a pace the snow hued siren ushered forth upon the terrain to greet the silhouette that seemed so promising, her nearing viewpoint ever morphing as she noticed foliage like appendage blossoming from the others back, yet in her desperation she staggered further forth to the other and in a passion of communication she spoke forth, her vocals lavishly decorated with honey and silk yet tinged with a sense of melancholy to the auds of another. “Oh goodness darling am I glad to see you.” She then took in the other with a lasting glance. The mare before her was unusual to the eye, a gypsy vanner with feathered hoof, bearing a pale flare upon her face. Her form was well built and to Sekhmet’s eye, strong. Yet the tree upon the others back seemed to catch her attentions the most, it ushered an air of curiosity upon the siren and after shifting her weight slightly upon ebony tinged hoof she cast it once more a sideways glance.

***

Fig

As she stood with baited breath, lips cast faithfully towards heaven’s brightening arc, the voice of another split the deafening silence and mossy green eyes danced down to find its source. Oh thank you! she cried silently, ever grateful that the God’s of Prim’sylva flanked her journey no matter the distance from home.

Heavily feathered legs began the arduous act of turning her bulk through the dense carpet of snow, though the blossoming delight in her expression had turned already very quickly to greet the stranger. The lonely concern seemed to melt from her heart and she called back warmly without any reservation, “Oh I feel the same way!” Leaves shimmied above in the soft grace of sunlight, and those that were not bruised and browned gleamed heartily.

The snow glared harshly as she tried to view the mare and she found herself squinting between thick dark lashes quite in vain. Fig was no fan of this wasteland – the air was dry, cold and offered no comfort to a wandering Lignea who knew mostly the embrace of balmy forests and bountiful sunlight. At last she could see a little clearer the sleek curve of an alabaster pelt as it slithered with matchless grace forward – perhaps the most focal point was her face. Glistening, pale eyes set amid shadowy coal hues drew swiftly the young tree-girl’s focus, so too the dark, sharp spiralling horn between, and she thought the other looked marvellously feminine, captivating. “I am called Fig,” she offered pleasantly, softly, her tone slow and her accent long... “Are you lost as well?” It seemed the most plausible of reasons – she couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to linger with purpose across ice and tundra.

Thick, tendrils strewn with twig and leaf jerked between cascading roots, but they were sodden, heavy, and lay only in a lifeless trail by her rear. As Fig considered the mare before her with a thoughtful eye turned, hope warmed through her core. Perhaps they could find the way south together; it would be a fine thing to have company, and she was certain one so poised and approachable would hold inside a bounty of history from which to learn. Still the Lignea’s gullible smile lengthened and she rocked left beneath the awning of glossy foliage to rest peacefully.

The sirens heart was a flutter, like paper wings upon the turbulent breather of her anxieties. Hoping, hoping that the other would not strike forth a blow that would curve her path. Drawing her hoof lightly across the frost bittered ground she so delicately portrayed a light smile upon her features in a display of good nature. “Oh I feel the same way!” Letting forth an invisible sigh of relief the fae let forth the smokes of turmoil from her lungs with each ebbing of breath. This meeting of difference would hopefully fall well, then she could usher home perhaps a little wiser from her learnings of this barren outlook. She watched the leaves of the other motion with slight confusion before pushing back the urge to speak forth about the tree whom lay upon the others back for she had decided how terribly rude such a thing would be upon first meeting another whom had the decency to return her greeting. She dipped her head in a light motion, removing the strand of pale hue from shrouding her equally ghostlike gaze. ‘What a twist of fate that has befallen me.’ The snake merely pondered. “How grateful I must be to be in the company of someone as darling as yourself” Her vocals hushed in a statement of good manner yet that was all she thought to say.


The viridian veined being cast forth her name and Sekhmet smiled ‘Fig’ it seemed such a fitting name to the earth adorned fae and in response the serpentine woman spoke forth a name of her own, “Alas what a lovely name~ I myself am Sekhmet” Sekhmet, the goddess of destruction upon her old gatherings law, images of a feline headed woman with glaring tooth so placidly slunk forth into her head. “Are you lost as well?” the other asked, bringing her out of her thoughts whom seemed to only swirl like ebony mists upon her mind, all of that seemed too far away now as she met the femme with bold eye. “Lost? Perhaps dear, I know not of my bearings. I suppose that does deem me lost after all...” Her vocals simmered to a mere ebbing whisper as her gaze surveyed her hooves with diminishing fire “Perhaps you, indeed know of the way from this frozen abyss?” A glimmer of hope fluttered forth and her features arose once more in a look of expectation.


For a place so barren there was an odd beauty about it and the more Sekh saw, the more determined she became to appreciate where her hoof had taken her, Perhaps it was a foolish gesture to wonder forth into the vast wilderness from the shrouded safety of the basin, yet as she took forth a step she felt her confidence in the lands around her strengthen a little more as she began to feel a fraction less worrisome of the frost bitten realm that seemed to smother all in a ungrateful blanket of alabaster shadows feared taint. She only hoped she could exit it as fast as the creeping snow seemed to travel.

***