SWP :: First Contact

the Rift

SWP :: First Contact

Maren the Crownless Posts: 264

Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6

Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.0 :: 6 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE

Mr. Teatime :: Siberian Tiger :: Sing Yewrezz

#32

08-23-2015, 11:18 PM (This post was last modified: 08-29-2015, 04:15 AM by Maren.)

As if the darkness of a forest had turned upside down: Drapes of white tangled her vision into an impossible sharpness. Her sight could not comprehend as it all fell and shattered. She saw the light; the white. Her whole body became enveloped in its embrace as her ears popped and her lungs begged for air — and somewhere she thought it must’ve taken all the light in the world to create the brightness of the flames of white that bleached her sight.

But of all the eternity it might’ve been able to last, it was barely a splinter of a splinter of a moment — the inside of a shooting star. Burning, disappearing.

And it burned up so quickly she had not noticed enough to think anything of it… wasn’t it that something crucial had changed. There was a new disgusting stench in the air.

The tigermare’s pace stopped halfway her movements. Her eyes that had been looking at the hills; her skin that had been caressed by the high-up winds; it seemed to be gone.
(Poof.)

As if in the Potter-universe; she felt like she — in all her perfectly mortal ignorance — had carelessly walked into another's’ portret. One portraying the tales of bloodbaths and gore; demons and despair, an alien-world — instead of ones of marbles and glory; cotton clouds and cushioning sunshine.

The priestess’ eyes waded over the scene like snails through oceans of salt as a waterfall sang a peaceful melody of clashing water. It drowned, however, in the voices of confusion that was left with the horses of Helovia and the ones that did not seem to belong here. She had walked into something unusual and unexpected, it seemed.

Except her eyeballs no muscle in her body had moved. Now, finally, she turned her head to look what was behind her. Still no hills… Now that it was finally starting to sink in she continued on to watch those curious and fallen; shattered. Maren chewed her tongue in thought and for a moment as long as a star fell down of the sky, she debated whether to walk up to one of the new arrivals as well — But they reeked and she decided to stay out of their way, within the framing of red leaves.

Yes, she prefered her angels with their trumpets over these disconnected, alien horses smelling like dirt; accid; illness and filth that had fallen like demons in their world.

Clouded eyes of judgement watched those that had crossed the Rift. Them: With their shattered souls split by the dusts of time. For as much as she was forever a crownless priestess, she was also a hypocrite.

Talking
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