the Rift


[OPEN] This is my happy place

Fig Posts: 57
Up For Adoption atk: 3.5 | def: 5.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 :: 20 HP: 56 | Buff: NOVICE
Beluga :: Common Beluga Leviathan :: Bubble Trap Adoptable
#1
Fig

It was funny...

the edge of the world!

That was exactly the reference Fig had used to describe her home for months after arriving – before she had truly set down her roots. She turned the nearest eye curiously toward the following mare, smiling softly and thoughtfully all the while. There was a flicker of recognition, a glint when the sun pierced the light canopy overhead and touched her mossy-green gaze; Fig felt quite cosy in Kestrel’s company, secure, and that contentedness resonated through her entire being.

So the journey west began.

Though she enjoyed the tranquillity of the forests which grew between World’s Edge and the Threshold, the Lignea too appreciated good company. She spoke often – when not paused to pull her own delicate canopy out of the bind of the native timber – and shared at length the small amount of knowledge thus far gathered through her time dwelling with the Qian. They were a peaceful nation, ranked and rostered, which Fig had not truly understood; she figured Kestrel might see relevance and so explained about the healers and the protectors, the thinkers and the crafters.

Always her eyes glittered with intrigue.

As they neared halfway, the tree-girl was identifying those back home who had left a fond mark in her mind – Thor as well as Murdock, both Protectors, The Queen, Resplendence who tended the earth, and two friendly painted mares with wings who she could not recall the names of. It took a good number of hours again to reveal the brilliant detail about each, and naturally she spared nothing. Fig was sure Kestrel would feel the same contentment as she, and the excitement resonating through her body-language was unmistakable.

When they neared at last the woods skirting the perimeter of World’s Edge, Fig paused and gestured with a whiskered white nose towards the floor. All around them were glinting tips of part-buried glass. “I always know I am close when I see the glass.” Upon her return, a month or so ago, she had dithered blindly – she was not familiar with the language of Helovian trees, and they merely rustled in response at her querying. Fig did not dally though this time, heavy hooves cut a track between the fragments and on through towards the region’s hub.

“Someone will come soon I am sure, and when they do we will ask for Murdock the Protector.” She smiled warmly when they stopped again by the bubbling water of a deep-spring pool. Fig dipped her nose beneath and drank thankfully until both hunger and thirst had been satisfied – Lignea did not after all, graze.

Image Credit

@[Kestrel], @[Murdock] (if you can) and/or someone ranked to accept her :)
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