.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
12-24-2014, 11:04 AM
Running without running away was terribly hard... Especially when she lived and breathed for her homeland. Never, ever would she run from the Aurora Basin, nor her Lord, Deimos, or her Lady... Ophelia. That was still something of a shock, and honestly the mare's system wasn't completely certain on how to process the loss of Illynx and Ophelia's abrupt and sudden rise to power... But the crimson-clad alabaster mare had not done anything to lead them astray, and when Hotaru had been stolen, well... Ophelia had been the calm, collected voice of reason. So, Rhiannon surmised, Ophelia the Forsaken wasn't all bad for their Basin. Still, on to the matter at hand; running. Rhiannon wasn't planning on running away, honestly, she simply desired a change of scenery without actually leaving the northern lands she had been born into. So much had happened, and it was all too overwhelming. Life was crumbling down around her, and... And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had found her father, but Crowley had lashed out in a crazed madness, cursing her with darkness and damaging her leg, making her lame. Then... Then, Hotaru had gone to the Throat. Not willingly... Well, perhaps it was willingly. Hotaru's mind was a dangerous, sly thing, and the coral Spy, the love of Rhiannon's pathetically short life, was far stronger with her tongue than the Brindled Devil herself could ever hope to achieve with her hooves. Or horns. It had been a long, long time since Rhiannon had felt so pathetically alone, and so she had ventured to the Steppe for some time alone. The ground, speckled with grasses and brief piles of melting snow, were a blur beneath her racing hooves, and the Weaver's sides heaved with deep, gasping breaths, brindled markings marred with sweat and dirt. She was a terrible sight to behold... But at last. At last! The Steppe... Slowing to a stop, Rhiannon's nostrils flared as she sucked in large, gulping breaths, trying to settle herself. The mare allowed herself to relax, icy-silver and molten-gold eyes roaming the scenery of the Steppe. Beautiful. So beautiful... @[Arah] ooc: I made us a thread! :D |
||
